


Five Times Rocket Was Loved and One Time He Loved Them

by EmilliaGryphon



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, gotg
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Team and family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:23:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon
Summary: A happy birthday fic for a friend on Tumblr! Check out their work at Daughter_of_the_Mountains





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madness_on_the_milano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_on_the_milano/gifts).



“Rocket!” Drax’s booming voice was muffled by the vibrant electric shocks that wracked the raccoonoid’s body. He trembled, his small claws gripping boulder so hard it drove white flakey scratches down the side. 

“Mmm fine!” Rocket called through gritted teeth, tediously reaching for his gun. 

“Rocket!” Peter’s strangled voice cried from the fray, “we need fire power!” Another round of bullets sent Rocket wincing. Just need to fix... he gasped through the white-hot pain. Drax thudded beside him, panting as he loomed over him.

“Small friend! I saw you thrown!” 

“You…you didn’t see nothin’!” Rocket snarled, fingers curling around his gun. He moved to withdraw it but gasped, arm spasming. 

“I see you right in front of me,” Drax responded, brows knitting in that all too familiar confusion. Rocket struggled for breath as another pang transcended his back, the hardware in the panel of his spine sparking. The tattooed alien looked up as Gamora shouted something to Mantis and the Setmarian gang pressed forward, firing. He looked back down at Rocket with concern.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Rocket snapped, waiting for Drax to fling himself back into battle. Instead he bristled as a large hand came forward, taking his gun. He blinked through the pain, shaking his head as the Destroyer looked at the weapon with confusion. “Don’t b…break it you d…dumb a…ass!” Drax, deftly moved once more and Rocket gulped in surprise, too slow with the sharp pain to react when the Destroyer reached into his belt and withdrew the bullets.

“I am not breaking it, I am helping you.” He loaded the gun and handed it back to Rocket. He stumbled forward, making to grasp it but fell forward. Luckily Drax’s large arms caught him. “You are not fit to fight.” BOOM!

“Rocket, Drax! Damn it we need you!” Drax’s looked at him momentarily and reached out once more, this time to touch his head lightly, only to stop short.

“May I?” He asked tentatively. Rocket’s eyes narrowed, but wordlessly nodded.

“You do not need to conceal your pain in front of me my friend.” He affirmed, stooping low over the green rounds of plasma fire. “I know you will not believe me, but there is nothing you could do that would make me think less of you.” One finger rhythmically stroked through Rocket’s fur. The raccoonoid managed a weak nod.  
He rode the waves of pain just as he always did, only this time Drax stayed with him. 

“Drax, Rocket! Where the hell are you we need back up!” Rocket drew a deep breath, looking at the destroyer before picking up his gun.

“Ready?” Drax’s trademark battle enthused grin widened. Contagious, Rocket found himself smiling the rush of adrenaline overriding his dulling pain. 

“Ready.” With new confidence, Rocket charged side by side with the destroyer, the two of them vaulting head on into the fight.


	2. Chapter 2

“Team movie night is starting now!” Quill announced, though they were all assembled with varying degrees of willingness. 

“Quill,” Drax interjected from his large seat beside the makeshift couch in the ship’s lounge area. This consisted mainly of a motley crew of found seats and couches, a table with three legs and an old TV. “Is this yet another motion picture about a group of misfits who gradually come together and discover that they are indeed more alike than they are different?” Quil pursed his lips, pressing play on the remote and threw himself down on the orange colored couch beside Gamora.

“No, but if it was that would be the plot if our movie!”

“We have a movie?” Quill rolled his eyes,

“Nah, we don’t, at least not yet! But it would be awesome if we did!” The tattooed alien nodded in agreement. “Anyways Drax it isn’t the Breakfast Club, that was last movie night! Its horror week remember! Scream, Final Destination, Saw! Tonight, it’s Frankenstein, and it’s one of the greatest monster movies ever!” Drax nodded, and resigned himself to watching the movie unfold. For his part, Rocket half-watched, as he did most movie nights and instead focused his efforts on tinkering with fixing the blaster that needed upgrading since their last job. 

“My creation!” The movie sounded, creation. Rocket’s ears flicked up, watching as the monster twitched and stirred. Wires, metal and numerous other contraptions hung from the thing’s arms and legs. Screws were wired into its head and its mouth stitched on either side. Rocket’s stomach lurched as he gazed transfixed. It was not until the creature came alive and began to make a mess of that lab that Rocket found his mind racing with memories. 

The doctor in the white coat yelled in fury, “Oh dear god! I have created a monster!” Monster, Rocket stood, unable to take it any longer and stalked briskly from the room, the echoes of the monster on the TV, and Dr. Frankenstein’s subsequent discipline upon  
it made Rocket’s hair stand on end, fists clenched until he made it to his and Groot’s room.

“Rocket?” Quill’s familiar hesitant call came not long afterward. Shit, Rocket thought. He had hoped he had been stealthy enough to slip away without them noticing. 

“Go away Quill,” he seethed. But as usual the human wouldn’t take no as an answer. Instead Quill came in slowly and sat down beside where Rocket had curled himself on his cot. Slowly the raccoonoid’s mind arduously lifted from the throws of memories. As soon as he became coherent, he said it aloud. 

“I’m a monster…” Peter turned, just as he’d been ready to leave.

“What? No Rocket,” the raccoonoid only choked back what was either vomit or tears, it was always hard to tell. Peter sighed, 

“Monsters aren’t capable of love Rocket,” Quill whispered. He shivered, those masked eyes of the doctors looking into him every time he blinked. His head and tail weighed down so heavy.

“Tsch,” he shrugged after a time of odd silence. 

“Don’t give me that,” he admonished, back turned. “I saw your face the day Groot was reborn.” Rocket rubbed his eyes with a paw, trying to peer through the haze of his stupor. 

“Yeah…what of it?” At this Quill turned, holding out the refilled water and smiled down at him. 

“I saw the look on your face when Groot stretched his little arms out of that twig Rock; you looked like you had just witnessed the most perfect and most precious thing in this whole galaxy come into being.” Rocket stared at his feet but swiped the water, knocking it back as though it were a shot. Stars he wished it was. “Your eyes were larger then stars man, you saw Groot emerge from that twig and you were vowing to cherish and protect him from everything.” 

Rocket’s tail only twitched, and Quill sat down next to him, looking at his face though he turned away. “Rocket I’d only seen that look once before man,” the raccoonoid’s mind couldn’t prepare a smart retort in time before the humie continued. “From my mom, when I was little. First memories I have of her was her beaming down at me with that same look of unconditional love on her face,” he grinned himself at the bitter sweetness of it. At this Rocket turned, “no monster could ever look that way.” A repressed smile lifted on the raccoonoid’s face, reliving that tumultuous day. “That’s true love Rock. You love Groot, and I’m pretty sure you love the rest of us too, though you’d never admit it,” he teased with a playful shove. Rocket finally brought himself to look at Quill, eyes rimmed with tears elated by the warm expansive feeling that had lifted in his stomach out of the sourness. Light and sweet, maybe Quill was right. The raccoonoid didn’t have to respond with words for Quill to know what he meant. The human nodded, patting him on the back ever so gently. 

“C’mon Rock, we’re not gonna watch that movie.” Rocket’s eyes narrowed, “we’re gonna watch a different one, one you’ll really like.” 

“Why are you so sure I’m gonna like it?” He challenged gruffly. Quill only stood, 

“There’s a scene where they steal a Ferrari,” this provoked a twitch of the ear, indicating curiosity. 

“What’s a Ferrari?”

Quill beamed, “like a really expensive ship! Let’s go!” Rocket pretended to resist, but stood, following the human with a renewed sense of acceptance. It felt nice and the raccoonoid held it close as they made their way back to the rest of the gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you know what movie Quill is referring to at the end!


	3. Chapter 3

The Guardians had learned pretty quickly that there were certain rules about living with Rocket. Never interrupt him when he was tinkering with a bomb-which was quite often-never, ever mention Yondu under any circumstances and Mantis could never touch him. But sometimes rules had to be bent. 

“I am Groot!” The flora colossus shrieked from his pot nearby, trying to angel himself to see the commotion. 

“Don’t tell me what to do Groot!” He twisted on the table, ignoring the pain that ripped through his wound. 

“Cease your struggle and let us help you!” Drax put in, his large hand immobilizing one of the raccoonoid’s arms. Still, Rocket fought, thrashing and kicking, hackles up. 

“That kurtuckan ass! He shot me!” Rocket snarled, ears flat. His back arched upward as he sensed Gamora approaching him with surgical scissors. 

“Rocket listen to me, it just grazed you,” Quill was trying to explain from somewhere far away, “we can patch you up easy if you just stay still!” But all the raccoonoid’ heard was the sound of his own instincts to get away, to flee, that there would be pain if they touched him. He buckled against the restraints and only shook his head at Groot’s lame attempts to comfort. His fear was beyond comprehension now. 

“We got to do something guys he’s not letting us,” 

“I can help,” Quill stopped, Rocket snarled, head twisting to see Mantis. 

“I can…I can help,” she mumbled, shuffling forward. The empath looked at Rocket with wide eyes, full of a pity that made him want to slice her antennae off. Terror coursed through him as Gamora loomed closer, trying to conceal the instruments to little effect. 

Mantis wrung her hands nervously, trying to hold back tears even as Rocket clawed at the air. For as long as he’d known her the empath had wanted to pet him. To stroke his fur or brush his tail and ever since then he’d been declining her requests. “I can help you feel better,” she whispered, continuing to approach. Rocket squirmed, trying to wriggle out of Groot’s hold to little avail. His breath huffed in rush gasps, fight or flight, fight or flight, get away! You’ll be torn apart again, Halfworld…. the doctors…his stomach threatened to empty itself, and he pinched his eyes closed. Mantis extended a tentative hand, her large eyes pleading. “Please puppy, let me help.” 

Rocket stole a deep breath, his feverish eyes searching her open heart. Everything within him hunched, tightening with horror. But that hand, a promise of calm. A promise of reprieve from the agony of his own past, at least for a few minutes. His claws scratched against the metal table, swiveling to look at her through narrow eyes. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” he hissed, but nodded. Mantis reached out, her nimble fingers gracing through his fur. 

“Is it working?” Someone whispered,

“Shhhh, he is conscious is hard to penetrate.” He breathed, fighting with himself to slow down, to close his eyes. Trust. That word lodged in his mind and his disheveled little heart. They won’t hurt you, they will not hurt you. Slowly, the veil of fright seemed to lift, his breath calmed, slowly as his mind filled with something white and serene. Her rhythmic fingers ran through his fur, each caress brining fourth an undulating wave of peacefulness. Rocket sighed, shoulders, neck then torso deflating slowly. He floated through the stars, the garish visions of scalpels and blood and gradually dissipating. Groot and Drax loosened their hold, while Gamora slowly approached his wound, Rocket lay serene, giving himself permission to be calm, to trust. 

When they were done, Drax, Quill, Gamora and even Groot decided to give Rocket some space. Only Mantis remained, tenderly releasing her touch. 

“Mantis,” Rocket mumbled as he came up from that sweet underwater place of tranquility. 

“I’m sorry puppy,” she whispered, bringing her hand back to her side. “I’m sorry, I tried to…help…I…it’s all over and I’ll never touch you again I promise I…”

“Mantis,” he cut in. Easing himself up on his forearms. Her large eyes moved from the floor to him, she shrank as though preparing to be hit or punished in some way. The way he used to cower when the gloved hands reached out for him. Rocket’s stomach coiled with inexorable guilt. He pulled himself to his feet up on the table at her level and slowly reached out a paw to touch her arm. 

“I an’t gonna hurt you Mantis. I just don’t want yah touching me unless I say so,” she winced but Rocket took her hand, moving it to rest between his ears. “Just don’t use your powers. There’s nothing good in there, bad enough without being sensitive and shit. Don’t want you to have to feel it,” his voice trailed off.

“Puppy?” She inquired nervously as if asking for permission. Rocket only gestured his head and let himself smile as she stroked his fur.

He gulped. “Thank you for…for what you did…I appreciated it.” She smiled, hands running through his fur and nodded at his words, she did not need her abilities to know the sincerity of his words. They sat in the med bay for a while after that, beside each other. Rocket allowed her to continue petting him, enjoying the quietness of it. 

“Your tail is so fuzzy!” She exclaimed, giggling. Rocket did not protest, instead he allowed himself to smile, leaning into her touch.


	4. Chapter 4

“For the last time Peter, no one knows what Hoth means!” Gamora shouted over the torrent of wind and snow, pulling her blanket snug. 

“Hoth! You know, the ice planet from Star Wars?!” Drax, Gamora, Groot and Rocket only met him with blank stares. Quill gave an exasperated sigh, looking at them through the holes in his mask. “We watched it a few days ago!”

“Whatever Quill,” Rocket snarled “we gotta make camp Groot’s gonna freeze to death!” Gamora spared a glance at the two of them, Rocket clothed in no more than his usual utilitarian suit and a heavy blanket. Groot was strapped facing inward to his chest with two small blankets of his own. Even still snow was piling up atop his tiny wooden head. The Collector had failed to mention their latest heist would involve trekking to a remote weapons storage facility on Rahot, an uninhabited snow storm of a planet. Quill nodded, and they began scrambling to make camp under the partial shelter of some boulders. They sat huddled together, Gamora staring into the flames of the fire which took no short amount of time to start thanks to the winds. 

“Only thing that’s warm is my heart,” Quill whispered after a time. Gamora glanced up, he only nodded his head over to the left next to Drax. Gamora’s eyes went soft at the sight. Groot slept in his tiny pot, his little blanket covering his slim torso and all but his eyes. He was additionally by Rocket’s own blanket which he had discarded and rigged into an impromptu shelter. The wind howled, sending their fire to shiver and Gamora peered through her fingers. She started at the raccoonoid who had expertly positioned himself around Groot’s pot to add another layer of warmth. The fur on his arms, head and tail no longer blew in the stormy chill but remained stiff, frozen. 

“Rocket!” Gamora stood, 

“What is it?” Quill grumbled from where he sat. 

“It’s Rocket, he’s freezing.” She answered shortly going over and examining him.

“Freezing? He’s covered in fur! He’s more protected then the rest of us!” Gamora knelt over the raccoonoid, who now it was revealed, was clearly trembling ceaselessly.

“Not all of him,” she snapped, and Quill stared in confusion for a moment, only to recall the sight of Rocket’s shaven back from years ago in the Kyln. He nodded but huddled closer to Drax and cursed as another heavy gust burst through. Gamora took a deep breath, bracing herself and removed her blanket, tucking it snuggly around Rocket.

“There you go.” She sat then, ever so slowly moving both the raccoonoid and the sapling in to her lap, her hands picking out the clusters of snow and ice that had frozen to Rocket’s fur. In a moment ice cold pricked her fingertips. “Oh no,” Gamora head shook with disgust. The metal panel in his back, she realized, it was cold to the touch. More freezing then his body and undoubtedly effecting the flesh around it. “Quill, Drax, give me your blankets. Any covering you can spare.”

“Why?” The Destroyer demanded, Gamora only rolled her eyes and continued to rub Rocket’s sides, his tail and shoulders.

“Just give me your blankets or get over here yourself.” Drax glared but obeyed with Peter following suit. 

“At least smaller Groot seems warm,” the destroyer jabbed in a hint of jealousy. Gamora ignored him but gave Quill an appreciative look as he wrapped his own blanket around her and scooted close. 

“C’mon Drax, we got to huddle,” the human explained. “Use our body heat,” another icy gust blasted their faces and Gamora leaned down, hunkering over Rocket and Groot. With that Drax shared his own blanket and pressed himself on Gamora’s other side. Slowly, she stopped her rubbing and patting, Rocket no longer trembling. 

“What is that noise?” Quill asked, sometime later after the winds had left an unearthly quiet across the snow scape. All that remained was the darkness and the snow and the dim glow of their pathetic fire. Gamora looked down at the odd high-pitched whispering sound and then laughed, 

“It’s Rocket,” she explained, one hand going protectively over his side and patted him softly. “I think he’s snoring.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rocket’s mind was past the point of grief over the last bottle of Quanlian vodka. He set it down roughly on the common kitchen area table and blinked in a daze of fuzzy incoherence. In his pot Groot slept in contented bliss, Rocket stared uneasy that he could not even relay on the slow movement of breath to indicate the saplings well-being. He shook his head, paws rubbing at his eyes. 

His ears twitched, the white noise of the ship’s engine grating on his already frayed nerves. Should’a bought more, he thought listlessly staring at the row of empties. He turned to Groot once more and lay his head down on his elbows. His best friend was such a tiny thing now, so helpless. Not nearly enough to fill the emptiness in his hardened little soul. But maybe the alcohol could fill it? Rocket had been testing this theory even more as of late, and though it was one of the many things he’d never admit to feeling-he knew it wasn’t working. With heavy lids the raccoonoid reached out, clawed finger tips desperately groping to reach out and tough, with assurance the simply pot where Groot slumbered. Groot, his pounding head echoed the longing of his heart. I am Groot, he hadn’t heard those three words in so long. He wished to cling to that bark once more. To be in that embrace where no scientists, no doctors or night terrors would find him. His claws gripped the pot’s circumference, pulling it toward himself and holding it as snug as he could. Rocket lifted himself from his dizziness, resting the tip of his muzzle on the lip of the pot and feeling the earthen soil. His drunken mind eventually found its way to slumber down an arduous path. 

Groot came to with the touch of warm fur awhile later and drew his eyes open, looking down. The furry one, he realized with delight. His thoughts had only just begun to solidify and now he felt that soft, glossiness around him and reached out towards it. The spindly limbs of his arms stretched outward to rest on the comforting coat of Rocket’s head and neck. Groot wanted it nearer, he wanted to be closer to the furry one who doted on him almost constantly, watering him, taking care to care to place his pot so that he could see the others. The furry one made him feel safe in an unsafe and unfamiliar world. The furry one who looked at him with shining eyes and occasionally beamed down at him. “I….I….” Groot tried, but his voice would not come. He let out a frustrated gurgle but spread his arms out. Bending down with what little flexibility his wooden trunk would allow. Still, it was enough to lean fully against the greyish brown of the furry one’s scruff. “I….aaaaa…..amm-m,” he pinched his eyes closed once more, whining in indignation and nuzzled in, breathing that metallic like musk he loved so much. Painstakingly infant grew tiny vines that curled around the fur in joy. He closed his eyes once more, letting the embrace pour into his heart with love and adoration. My forest, “I…am…g…gggrooo,” he cooed, gripping Rocket as tight as he could, and burying his face in further. “Am grooo,” he tried again summoning all the will power he could muster, fueled by the loving embrace all around him. “I…a…am…g…g..grooo….groot!” 

Rocket’s ears perked upward, 

“Groot?!” Rocket nervously wondered, his heart startling at the sound of those three words he loved so much in all the galaxy. Groot’s small but powerful cutch to his bushy fur made him move slow, picking his head up only just and looked at where the little flora colossus lay on his neck, arms sprawled out. Groot looked at him with all the adoration in the galaxy.

“I….a..am Groot,” the words beckoned tears from deep inside of Rocket he had kept hidden for so long. Tears of unparalleled love. He took the pot in his hands and hugged it close as he sat up. Groot nestled against his beating heart. Their own secret forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a THING for sleepy intimacy. Parent/child or otherwise! I need more fics of Rocket embracing his gentler side, especially for Groot! If you liked this fic check out my longer one-shot "Lullaby" it's in my "GOTG One Shots" Sereis


	6. Chapter 6

Rocket’s ears flicked against the incessant noise coming from Drax’s quarters. Even as the raccoonoid tried to insert the refined bullets into the gun he’d just finished upgrading. What the flark was that? He recognized the rising and falling of the brass from some of Quill’s music. But Quill and Gams went out on their little escapade, he rolled his eyes at the thought as he finished placing the rounds into the gun. He aimed, that grating sound ringing through his ears and into his brain. He fired, 

“Flark it Drax!” He snarled, holstering the weapon. The orange smoke from the blast wafted through the air vent. Rocket tore down the target, eyes narrowing in a vengeful fury at the mark he’d missed. 

“I am Groot?” the sapling gurgled from his pot.

“Stay here, I’ll be back soon,” he instructed stalking away and pattered down the hall to the Destroyer’s room, banging his fists on the metal wall. 

“Hey! Drax! DRAX! Keep it down would yah?!” Rocket demanded, calling over the terrible drawl of whatever whack instrument he was attempting to play. He halted, at the pounding steps and jumped back as Drax swung the door open. “Drax…” the raccoonoid stared up at the bald man’s drawn face, his eyes…puffy and red. 

“Small friend was my music disturbing you?” He voice rasped, Rocket furrowed his brow in confusion. He swallowed his planned “what was music?” comment and instead tilted his head.

“We’re you cryin’?” He asked, hopping his voice wasn’t as harsh as it usually was. Drax looked away for a moment, before grimacing and turning away but gestured for Rocket to follow him. The raccoonoid sniffed, it was mostly sweat that had infiltrated every surface of the alien’s room. That…and spices? Drax heaved a sigh, putting his odd instrumental contraption down on the bed and brought his hands to his head, covering his face. 

“It was on this day,” he began mumbling, “that my Hovat and Kameria were taken from me.” Rocket’s tail stiffened, sucking in a breath as he took in the stooped, miserable figure of the destroyer. His tail twitched, watching as Drax lifted his head, only to pull something out from a drawer and place it in his palm.  
Seconds later a hologram appeared before him. A woman, bald and tattooed herself with several piercings adoring her ears and nose chased a young girl around, shouting playful in some odd language. The girl whose flesh was unmarked shrieked in laughter and ran faster. Rocket opened his mouth to speak, stopping as the hologram shut off. Drax kneaded his fingers restlessly on the cot, then turned to his instrument. 

“I used to play for them,” he nodded to the contraption and smiled sadly. Flark me, Rocket grumbled to himself, but leapt upward on the cot beside him and looked over the golden thing. “It’s a saxophone,” the destroyer explained. The raccoonoid nodded, 

“Look I uhhh,” he cleared his throat, “I never apologized for…. for what happened on Knowhere.” At this Drax turned to him, Rocket looked away back at the so-called saxophone. I could turn that into a trennlian cannon. What was he doing? Oh right, apologizing. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you or your wife or kid.” They hung there in suspicious silence for a moment, before Drax turned to him. 

“You were not entirely in the wrong,” he whispered. “I should not have lost my temper as I did.” 

“No Drax,” Rocket’s voice cut him off in a haste that surprised himself. “No….I’m sorry. It was wrong. I don’t got an excuse for why, not that it would matter of I did but,” his voice trailed off as he stared at the wall before them. Drax only nodded, turning back to himself in despair. “I never said I was sorry, and I never thanked you…” Rocket forced himself to continue. “For….what you did for me after the explosion on Xandar...after Groot.” 

“I know what it is too loose those you hold most dear,” Rocket nodded even he couldn’t disagree with that if he tried. The silence stole their voices yet again only now it seemed less oppressive and Rocket took his paw gently to touch Drax on the back patting awkwardly. “Yah know,” he finally spoke again unable to stand the lack of noise. “I know Groot ain’t your kid but…I’m sure he’d like to hear your music.” Drax’s expectant eyes turned to him with childlike hope. 

“Really?” Rocket nodded, allowing himself to smile. 

“Wait here a sec,” before he could make some smart remark he hopped down.

“Rocket?” The raccoonoid halted in the doorway, “you are a good friend. I am glad to have you as my friend. It is good to once again feel loved.” He pretended not to hear, leaving the room to grab Groot but Rocket beamed as he made his way back down the hall. 

“A’right Drax, take it away.” Rocket steadied a bouncing Groot on his shoulder with one hand and waved Drax on with the other. The destroyer….no…Drax the father, began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the latest run of the All New Guardians comics Drax has a saxophone that he kept from his days as Arthur Douglas. He was a musician used to play it for his family.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally read this as “Five Times Rocket Was Comforted and One Time He Comforted Them* only to later realize my mistake!


End file.
